


Where The Lonely Ones Roam

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Off Screen Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Need to have a little trust in me<br/>Just close your eyes and let me lead<br/>Follow me home<br/>To where the lonely ones roam.</p><p>For the Tumblr prompt "Noble/peasant AU, with Arthur as the peasant."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Lonely Ones Roam

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary from Digital Daggers' "Where The Lonely Ones Roam."
> 
> Many thanks to [Kore-r](http://kore-r.tumblr.com/) for the period nitpicks, though I did not write this in Middle English or Norman French. It would be far too difficult for me to approximate that language style or for current readers to understand it.

Lady Ariadne had fallen asleep during the long carriage ride to the family summer home. She lived with her Uncle Dominic, Aunt Mallorie and cousins Philippa and James. A plague had swept through the land when she was young, and her father had sent her to Dominic's country estate to be clear of the evil miasma that had settled over her family home. The rest of her family had already shown early signs of illness, and had succumbed soon after her arrival at Dominic's home. She barely remembered her parents or siblings, more as fragments in dreams.

She was having one such dream when the ghostly figure that was her older sister pointed behind her and started to scream. It sounded more like Aunt Mallorie…

Jerking awake, Ariadne realized at once what was happening. The carriage was beset by brigands, their knights defending their lives with their own. Adrenaline spiked, waking her fully, and she turned to look at the frightened faces of her much younger cousins. Philippa had large, frightened eyes, though she was silent rather than shrieking like Mallorie. James was also deathly quiet and still; far too many bards told tales of brigands that slaughtered entire families along the road, stripping their bodies bare to steal their jeweled robes and shoes.

"Get to the carriage!" one of the brigands yelled.

Mallorie continued to scream despite Dominic's orders to stop, and Philippa whimpered softly. James was as white as a sheet. Wide eyed, Ariadne risked a peek out of the window's slats. She couldn't keep away from it, drawn to see this dangerous world she shouldn't have been exposed to.

She could see four brigands fighting the guards, and she guessed there was a similar number on the other side of the carriage. Dominic grew grim-faced when she relayed this, and grasped Mallorie's hand in a white knuckled grip. That was enough to silence her cries, which died down to whimpers and hiccups. He looked at Mallorie, then at Ariadne. "If we cause a distraction—" he began slowly.

"Dom, no!" Mallorie hissed.

"—then take the children and run. We'll find you when it's safe, when there aren't lawless men after us."

That last part was likely to quiet Mallorie. Ariadne had no false hopes about the chances for Dominic and Mallorie to live through this. But Mallorie needed to hear it, and Dominic turned back to her. "Come, my love. This is a new journey for us. We don't know where it will take us, but that doesn't matter."

"Because we will be together," Mallorie said, smiling through her tears.

Ariadne knew she was witnessing an extremely private moment, but was fascinated by the scene. As much as theirs had been an arranged marriage, they had developed a genuine affection for one another that had not diminished with time. Ariadne rather doubted that she would achieve such a union, but hoped at least for cordial understanding. Theirs would truly be a sacrifice for the children's sakes, and she would not let it be in vain. She had nothing more than her ornate eating dagger at her belt, but even that blade could wound if she hit a soft enough target on a brigand.

Of course, that meant letting one get up close to her.

It wasn't until much later that Ariadne could even make sense of what happened. As the knights fought the brigands, Dominic and Mallorie exited the carriage and started making a fuss. As Dominic hoped, it brought the other brigands around to see how best they could take advantage of the situation. Ariadne escaped through the other carriage door, sprinting off with Philippa and James as fast as they could run. She could almost hear Mallorie's screams behind them, but she dared not look back. The three ran headlong into the forest, not heeding where they were going as long as it was far away from the brigands. It dimly occurred to her that she could be making an easy to follow path for them to follow, but her priority was getting the children to safety. Nothing else mattered.

Ariadne lost track of time as they wandered; she startled at every noise and tried to keep up the children's flagging spirits with songs or games. She had no answer other than "They will find us," whenever they asked about Dominic or Mallorie, and "Your father is very clever," when Philippa quite rightly pointed out that they had no clear path to follow. Thinking about what likely happened to the two of them was painful.

The three finally stumbled upon a barn, and Ariadne shooed the children up into the hayloft to sleep. James especially was tired and difficult, and tried to have a tantrum at falling asleep without his favorite nurse, who had gone separately to their summer home. Ariadne hoped that the good lady reached her destination safely.

Voices woke her, but thankfully the children remained asleep. It sounded rather like one of the brigands, which made her heart stop. Carefully, she disentangled herself from the children and crept closer to the opening in the wall that allowed peasants to pitch hay out of the loft.

"I'd think I'd know if some noble lady and children showed up on this farm. Lord DeLisle likes his quiet, and he don't want visitors," one voice said. There was nothing identifiable about the voice, but Ariadne thought he sounded rather well spoken for a peasant. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the sound of spitting.

"The trail definitely leads here. Is there any way off the lands without you knowing?"

"I work with the animals," the peasant said. "That's my job. If they went out to the fields, I wouldn't know. Maybe they went off that way looking for food." It was a reasonable enough way to explain the disappearance, though the brigand grumbled. The peasant snorted in amusement. "I look after livestock. Much more agreeable'n willful nobles in a temper."

Ariadne thought that they were safe when the brigand stomped off in a huff. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and slowly made her way back to the children. Just as she was settling in, however, she froze at the sight of a dark head with dark eyes peering up over the edge of the hayloft. Her heart beat erratically in her chest. Was this how they ended? Dominic and Mallorie's sacrifices for nothing?

"Be easy. You're safe. I won't harm you. You're all right now." It was the peasant's voice, and he climbed further up the ladder to look at her and the children. "You're all right."

She made a soft, startled sound. "Wh-who—"

"I don't know you, but I know what finery is, and what fine traveling companions is like. That one wasn't fine at all."

Taking a deep breath, Ariadne nodded. "I think they killed my aunt and uncle. We were in a carriage, but they told us to run…"

"He looks the nasty sort," the peasant said solemnly. He hadn't come further up the ladder yet, and looked from her to the children. "Your poppets will need milk. I'll get some."

Disappearing before Ariadne could correct him, the peasant man scurried about in the barn. The two children were her responsibility, and some noble girls certainly were married off at exceedingly young ages to be broodmares. She had been lucky that Dominic hadn't been the cruel sort, just distant and utterly devoted to his wife.

"I'm Arthur the wrangler," the peasant told her when he returned with a pail of fresh milk and a dark, chipped pottery cup. "I take care of the animals, and whatever other things that need doing. I have to look out, else this place'll fall apart." He handed her the cup after dipping it into the pail to get some of the milk. "Here, you need to keep up your strength." Normally she wouldn't deign to use such a thing, but she was hungry and thirsty, and the children would be, too. She couldn't afford to give up on charity.

She observed him as she sipped the milk. Arthur was tall and lithe, muscular in a wiry sort of way. There was a quiet strength and dignity about him, as if he tended to think before he spoke. He was obviously clever, his speech told as much, and his clothes were well worn but cared for, thin areas patched over with similar colored material. His dark hair was cropped fairly close, perhaps because of his proximity to animals and their vermin. On another man, like the peacocks of the court that she was more accustomed to, it would have been severe to the point of being harsh. But for Arthur it only served to highlight the strong lines of his expressive face. His brown eyes were warm and caring when the children woke, and he had a ready smile for them, which eased their minds considerably. "Ariadne," Philippa said after a moment in a tremulous voice. "Where's Mama and Papa? Didn't they find us yet?"

Ariadne lifted her eyes to Arthur in a helpless moment as she floundered, trying to think of something to say. "I'm sure he'll find us," she said finally, not sure what else she could do.

"We're out of the way," Arthur offered, giving James another cupful of milk. "Lord DeLisle likes it that way, he does. Quiet, no court business. He don't like that none."

"I wonder why," Ariadne murmured.

"Don't know, don't matter. I do what I need to do, keep my head down. Keeps my head on my shoulders, my roof over my head, and my belly full." He gave her a commiserating look. "Seems to be the only thing that matters, most days."

"I have a home," Ariadne replied. "It's just getting there…"

"They're not yours," Arthur said abruptly.

"They're my responsibility," she told him hotly. "My cousins," she clarified at his curious look. "I can't abandon them, if that's what you're thinking," she said softly when they went off to explore the hayloft a bit. "Even if we somehow got separated, I couldn't stay away. We're family."

"I suppose," Arthur said slowly. 

"Don't you have family?"

Arthur's expression grew shuttered. "Of a sort."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He nodded briskly, as if it didn't matter, and he had other business to attend to. "Where do you belong, then?"

Some part of her bristled at the phrasing, though it made no sense. It wasn't as if she belonged with Arthur, hidden away in some barn. She should have been at the family's country estate. "If you've heard of it, we were on our way to Cobol Place."

"That's dangerous. According to Lord DeLisle, anyway," Arthur said hastily when he saw Ariadne's incredulous look. "The Fischer estate is near it. Lord DeLisle and Lord Fischer don't get along. Lord Fischer don't stop his men from doing what they want as long as crops come in and rents is paid. Brigands hide in his woods all the time. Lord DeLisle isn't that way, expects us civil and following the law. He don't want no king's men coming in. Not sure if he's met your family or not, but he prefers to be an old man alone, waiting to die."

"That's sad," Ariadne murmured.

"That's life," Arthur replied. He paused a moment. "I ain't telling you what to do, but you should stay hidden a spell. That man didn't look like he'd stop looking, and he looked like he'd rather slit your throat. Among other things."

Ariadne shuddered. "But your Lord doesn't like guests…"

"Yeah. But I don't mind 'em."

And with that pronouncement, Arthur rose gracefully to his feet. "I'll come back at dusk. Keep to the barn 'till then."

***

At dusk, Arthur led the three of them to the cottage where he lived. It was on the edge of the little village obviously attached to DeLisle's estate. Ariadne didn't understand why he was so set apart from the others until they got inside; Arthur's mother wandered around the cottage muttering to herself, her hair uncombed and clothing askew. "Her mind isn't right," Arthur murmured softly. "Some men from Fischer's lands… We never got the story of what happened, and my father was dead, her mind broke. DeLisle got weregild for the damage. But we're the ones that still live with the consequences."

"That's why you helped us," Ariadne guessed. "Because those brigands are the same type."

"Yeah." He nodded toward the back room. "She might sleep tonight, she might not. I can't ever tell when she'll do anything. But you can rest in the meantime."

"How long do you think it might take before we can try going home?" she asked softly.

"Joseph saw strange men in the fields. They didn't stay when he went close."

"I don't even know why they'd chase us down so hard."

"Don't you?" he asked, eyebrow lofted. Ariadne got the distinct impression that he thought her incredibly dense in that moment. "Rich, beautiful heiress…"

Blinking in surprise, Ariadne nearly frowned at him. "You think I'm beautiful."

"You're lovely."

She shook her head. "At court, I'm hardly well known. I get passed over all the time. And no one but my Uncle Dominic cares about lessons I've learned."

Arthur's gaze swept over her disheveled dress, but Ariadne felt as though she was sitting there stark naked. "They're fools, then."

"You're staring at me," Ariadne murmured, a trifle uncomfortable with the attention.

He gave her a crooked smile, dimples showing. "Can't help it. I don't get a chance like this often. Most nobles just pass on by, an' would spit on me as soon as look at me. Yeah, you need my help to hide right now, but you don't got to talk like you care about my opinion."

"But I do," Ariadne replied, meaning it. She'd never really had the opportunity to talk with any village peasants. She supposed her handmaid was of that same stock, but castle-raised commoners tended to be a little more genteel than the serfs who worked out in the fields. At least, Mallorie had always said so.

His smile warmed her insides, though she couldn't have said why. It wasn't as though she would normally interact with someone of Arthur's status, or that his opinion should have mattered. But perhaps because this was so out of the ordinary, it seemed to carry more import than it normally would have. Perhaps because she was being dealt with as a person in her own right, rather than as a doll to be shuttled around from one household to another, or as a prize to be won if the gains to her family were great enough.

"Time for the littles to go to bed," Arthur's mother declared suddenly, sounding remarkably lucid. Philippa and James were too exhausted to protest, and went to bed straightaway. Arthur's mother laughed a little at the sight of Ariadne and Arthur seated at the rickety table near the fire. "Mummy and Daddy need alone time," she crooned with a dreamy smile on her face, retreating to the loft where the children were sleeping.

Arthur seemed to be just as embarrassed by the statement as Ariadne was. "Don't mind her," he said, eyes sliding from hers to the floor. "She's not right, don't mean harm by it," he murmured.

"She misses your father," Ariadne replied, which made Arthur's eyes snap up to hers. "She's alone, and probably doesn't want to see you alone."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," he admitted. Scooting a little closer, Arthur reached out boldly to grasp her hand. It was a shockingly intimate gesture, perhaps meant for comfort, or perhaps as an overture for something more physical. That thought, of Arthur and herself locked in an intimate embrace, made her gasp and her cheeks burn. Seeing her expression Arthur hastily dropped her hand and recoiled with sudden embarrassment. "Sorry, but…" he mumbled.

“No, forgive me. I...” Taking a chance, Ariadne took his hand back in hers as she shook her head. “I was surprised. I know you won’t, “ she hesitated, the words uncomfortable in her throat, “press your advantage.” 

His eyes were dark, serious and unwavering in the firelight. “I will not, Ariadne.” 

He said her name so gently it was like a caress, one she could easily imagine from the feel of his hand in hers. It was wrong, he shouldn't be touching her that way, shouldn't be alone with her without a chaperone, shouldn't be taking liberties above his station. But he saved her life and the lives of her cousins, and she had no way to repay him. It was a massive life debt, and beneath the rough edges he was a good man. He didn't take such liberties as a way to push her or compromise her, but because he didn't even know that he was, really. 

So she grasped his hand tightly in hers, same as she would do to Philippa if the girl was feeling skittish. Then, before Arthur could say a word, she leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to his lips. They were rough and chapped, yet she felt as though a fire was ignited deep inside of her. He leaned closer, lengthening their kiss, following her lead but not demanding more than she was happy to give. His free hand rose and gently rested on her hair, his fingers working into the locks until his palm was carefully cradling her head. Ariadne could hear her heart racing in her chest. Temptation was so very close; how easy it would be to fall into sin with Arthur, lose her head and her virtue in one fell swoop.

She released his lips, resting her forehead against his, keeping her eyes closed. She could feel his warm breath on her mouth, and the iron will she was drawing on felt dangerously close to melting. But she had no choice. "You kept us safe from harm, Arthur. Yours is a good soul,” she whispered.

"I'll help you find your way home," he promised. “I swear you will come to no danger in my care.”

As much as she agreed with him that it was best, some part of her mourned a lost opportunity to get to know him better.

***

After several days hiding in his cottage, Arthur thought it was safe enough to assist Ariadne and her cousins to travel to the Cobol Estate. His friend Joseph agreed to check in on his mother, even if he clearly looked disturbed by the concept and stated that he preferred to stay in his field rather than go elsewhere if he could avoid it. 

Ariadne let Philippa and James think this was all a grand adventure, and dressing in peasant garb was a costume of sorts. "Nurse never lets us play in dirt," James chortled happily, grasping a stick and waving it about like a sword. "D'we have ta go back?"

Ariadne immediately corrected his words. Of course he would have absorbed peasant speech patterns. Of course he would think it was appropriate. But it wasn't. They were of different worlds, even if Arthur appeared to be well meaning and would treat her fairly. Ariadne would have to marry a noble that Dominic found for her, and she would have to bear children to ensure that the noble's line was carried on. Otherwise, she would become the spinster, loitering about the castle with her cousins. Or, worse, be sent to a nunnery while her inheritance passed to Dominic. Some of it might pay for her admittance to Holy Orders, but the bulk of it would likely be given to Philippa or James. Arthur would never understand such an arrangement. He would say it wasn't fair to her. Which it wasn't, but that was the way of things.

Ariadne and Arthur gave each other many sidelong glances as they traveled. As much as it disturbed her, Ariadne couldn't help herself either. What if she acted on these glances? What if she gave into the desire she had felt when they had kissed, and still felt when their eyes met or hands touched? If she lay with him, let him take her maidenhead and teach her the heat of a luxurious bed, what then? What if she didn't return to Cobol, but remained with Arthur, became his wife and bore him children? She had training to be a chatelaine by working closely with Mallorie, but such skills likely wouldn't be helpful in a peasant village. What did she know of the life of a farmer’s wife, of cookery, marketing, or the care of a home? It was a fantasy, something she could only dream about but not actually live out.

Dominic came to meet them at the door of Cobol Manor, looking haggard and wan. Mallorie was nowhere to be seen, and there was a devastated cast to him that prevented Ariadne from asking where she was. The children asked, and Dominic seemed to crumple right in front of them. "Go inside. Change and scrub off that filth. You're home now," he said instead of answering them, voice wavering with grief. "You don't need to look like peasants any longer."

Arthur stiffened slightly when he heard the words, though Dominic couldn't tell. The two men eyed each other a little warily, Ariadne thought, and Dominic nodded his head slightly at Arthur. "I appreciate the help you have given my family, and you have my deepest thanks. A place is here for you on my lands, and I would gladly give you an annual income to secure yourself a suitable bride in the village."

Shaking his head, Arthur bowed deeply. "I thank you my lord, but I have an ailing mother that I care for. I can't leave her."

Already dismissing Arthur, Dominic nodded and didn't press the issue. He looked toward Ariadne. "Best get inside and have your maids see to your needs. There's much to do. You're home now Ariadne, where you belong."

Though she wasn't certain that the estate could feel like home without Mallorie, she nodded and headed inside. She paused in the doorway and risked turning, a look back to see Arthur one last time.

He was staring right at her, an intensity in his gaze that was almost unnerving, as if he was trying to fix this point in time in his memory forever. She raised her hand slightly as a final farewell, feeling lost inside and uncertain why that would be so.

"I was glad t'help," Arthur said, his voice carrying to where she was standing. "If ever I could be of service again, I'd do it gladly."

Ariadne froze in place, even as Dominic missed their import. They were only words, after all. But they were formal words that _she_ had taught him, indicating that perhaps she had left a mark on him as well. What did that mean, then? Was he sorry to see her go? Did he wish for more time with her? Were there feelings between them?

Slipping into the house, Ariadne couldn't shake the melancholy which had suddenly come over her. She would never know what could be, and all she had was her imagination. Bardic tales told of grand romantic gestures, tourneys, and great feats to prove affection. All she had was a peasant who had made her comfortable, hidden her from brigands and made her feel as though she was someone important in her own right, and not simply because there was an inheritance to be had.

It was strange, but the house felt lonely and empty now. It didn't feel like a home she was part of any longer. The estate was simply somewhere to live, somewhere she had to be.

But at night, in the comfort and safety of her own bed, she could dream about a tiny cottage with a loft bed and a wandering woman half mad with grief. And most importantly, she dreamed of a dark haired man with warm brown eyes that crinkled when he smiled at her, lips chapped and hands warm as he touched her reverently. Here she didn't feel lost at all. Here she felt welcomed and whole again.

Every morning, she grieved anew and wondered what the future would bring.

The End


End file.
